


Olfactory

by aquietdin



Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M, graphic depictions of smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5852731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquietdin/pseuds/aquietdin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yosuke Hanamura has an unusually keen nose. His partner, however, doesn’t seem to smell like anything. This perplexes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olfactory

Yosuke has a very keen sense of smell.

It's probably weird, he thinks often. Of all the talents he could have landed with, he gets this. Not musical aptitude, or math skills, or sports ability. Nope, just a crazy sensitive nose. It's not exactly the kind of thing you can brag about without painting a giant "WEIRDO" on your forehead.

It got him in trouble in elementary school. He could tell when his neighbor was eating cookies from his desk just from the smell, or when a girl hadn't bathed, or when his teachers were wearing extra perfume. He was never trying to be a taddle tale, it just came out. He made observations.

By the time he hit middle school, he'd learned to keep his mouth shut. People still stared, those that had heard his odd comments about smells. It was almost refreshing when he moved to Inaba.

The country air didn't suit him at first. He'd grown up with the smog of the city, car exhaust and alley garbage and hot asphalt. It wasn't a thing most people would like the smell of, regardless of how sensitive their olfactory sense were. But the air in Inaba smelled like water and fog, uncooked rice, leaves and old wood. And it took some getting used to.

Even the people smelled different. In the city, it was perfumes and colognes and scented lotions, bubblegum and canned coffee, all piled on top of the scent of skin. Inaba's citizens toned it down considerably. Most people that passed him on the street or in the hallways smelled only of laundry soap, or whatever they'd eaten recently. On the one hand, not being constantly overloaded with scents meant less headaches for Yosuke. But it also made his days a little less interesting.

At least at first.

Chie was arguably his first actual friend in Inaba, though from how it started Yosuke was sure it would fizzle out in no time. She was wearing some sickly sweet scent, wafting up from her green track jacket, and it made his nose wrinkle. It didn't work at all, clashing with the fragrance of her skin and hair (what little of it he could still smell underneath all the perfume). And, like the idiot he was, he told her so.

The bruise on his shin didn't heal for weeks. He was thankful her kick hadn't been aimed higher.

But three days later, Chie had switched to something that was more like ginger, spicy and upbeat, and it suited her. Yosuke kept his mouth shut about it.

The first day of his second year got off to a rotten start. Crashing his bike, his uniform getting wet in the rain (and now he smelled like rain), and finding out that King Moron was his homeroom teacher.

The transfer student was a welcome distraction. He had weird colored hair and a cocky stance and a collar that was popped entirely too high. Even his neutral expression screamed 'trust fund baby.' But Yosuke let it go, snickering as the new kid back sassed Morooka, something few had the balls to actually do. Maybe he was alright.

Yu was his name, and he sauntered towards the seat in from of him. Yosuke sat up a bit and cleared his nose with a small sniffle. It was weird, he knew it was, but it was the easiest way to get a feel for people. It was surprising what you could learn about someone from how they smelled. The kid in the front row always smelled like the soap from the bathroom, a testament to how he obsessively washed his hands. The boy and girl in the middle right usually smelled similar, Yosuke's first clue that they were dating. And the girl in the back row still chewed that horrible watermelon gum, the kind you'd usually only see kids with. He could smell it from his desk even now.

But when Yu sat in his new seat, just a foot away from Yosuke's face, he got nothing. No cologne, no soap, no shampoo or gum or even skin.

Yosuke inhaled again (discreetly, he didn't want to think of the rumors if it looked like he was sniffing his new classmate), but all he could smell was what was already there: the wood of the desks, floor polish, eraser dust and chalk. He could smell Yukiko's perfume, gardenia on the insides of her wrists, even King Moron's pungent after shave.

For all he could tell, Yu smelled like nothing. And that was more than confusing. It was like he didn't exist.

Even after they became friends, Yosuke still couldn't get a read on Yu. He would sometimes smell like the food he'd cooked for lunch or the air around him, like he'd been standing in the wind for too long. But that smell wasn't him, it wasn't human.

Yosuke kept trying. He thought maybe the TV world could offer him some insight, but that place always smelled off, sort of like stale pasteboard or old paint, mildew and dry rot. And it overpowered Yosuke's nose every time.

The closest he could get to a scent was when Yu summon a Persona, the smell of electric air and hot metal. Still not human. He'd figure Yu out, even if it took him all year.

Two months later, he had to admit that it was becoming an obsession.

Yosuke had gone to Yu's place, or rather his uncle's place, to hang out. It smelled like old tatami and cigarette smoke. And when he went to use the bathroom, Yosuke removed his socks to creep into the bathing area. Several bottles of shampoo were lined up, one of them pink with a flower top. Nanako's, obviously. But he knew these brands, he knew what they smelled like. Yu never smelled like any of them. He went back downstairs, something bordering shame in his stomach. Seriously, sneaking looks at someone else's shampoo. Weird.

He'd gotten nowhere. And it wasn't like he could just grab Yu, bury his face in his hair and smell. Yosuke had pushed that idea out of his head as fast as it had appeared, somewhere between furious and embarrassed because who even thinks that sort of thing? Weirdos, apparently. Like him.

He didn't need to be more of a social outcast than he already was.

Kanji's bathhouse in the TV world was awful, _so awful,_ the absolute worst. It was bad enough that the steam made Yosuke sticky with sweat and fogged up his glasses, but once inside, oh, the smells that assaulted him. There was charcoal and wet wood, but also musk, sweat, and smells he didn't really want to name, something skunky and damp.

Yosuke was fairly certain this was going to break him. He'd never be able to get this smell out, he'd be smelling sauna stank and ball sweat until he died.

But then he looked over at Yu, saw the sweat on his face and neck, and snapped to attention. He'd never seen Yu sweat. He was always perfectly stoic and calm, never fazed by anything. But the heat of the bath house was getting to him, too. He was human after all.

Yosuke thought this might be his chance to figure him out. People's scents were amplified by sweat. But he never had an opportunity while they were inside the TV. And after they left, they'd separate before he could come up with a way to get close enough to Yu.

He went home and showered, put on pajamas that smelled like Junes laundry soap, and went to bed frustrated.

After they'd rescued Kanji, Yu invited Yosuke to the roof for lunch, as he did often. He'd made meat stew, and it was delicious as everything else Yu cooked. Even the rice was fluffier than when his mother made it. Yosuke shoveled his portion of the lunch into his mouth with gusto.

"You smell nice."

It was spoken so softly that Yosuke thought he'd imagined it. He turned to Yu in silent questioning, his mouth too full of rice and beef to speak. Yu looked startled for a moment before focusing on the bento box in his hand.

"Sorry, that sounded weird." Yu poked at his stew with his spoon.

Yosuke swallowed his food (it took two separate swallows to get it all down, he should really stop eating so fast) and stared at Yu, wiping a bit of stew from the side of his mouth.

"Uh." Yosuke could feel his face heating up. "Thanks?"

Yu looked at him again, a tiny smile on his lips. "You kind of smell like oranges." He took a tiny bite of rice. "It's nice," he added.

Yosuke finished the rest of his stew without really tasting it. That night in the shower, he stared at his bottle of shampoo. It was orange scented, but after he dried his hair, he could never smell it.

Yu didn't make any more comments on Yosuke's or anyone's scent.

He'd seen his own breakdown coming, which was why he'd invited Yu to the riverbed. Here, if he lost it, at least it wouldn't be in the classroom or the food court at Junes. Yu just had this way, this secret method of reaching into his head with the precision of a surgeon and pulling out what Yosuke didn't want to admit. But no, that wasn't quite right. Yu didn't pull, or push, or force. He compelled, made Yosuke want to bare himself and all his emotional baggage. He had no idea how Yu did it, or if it was even conscious.

The Print Club photo he took with Saki crumpled in his sweaty hand. He couldn't help but cry, knowing she was gone, the first person to give him a chance to be himself. Even if she secretly hated him.

Arms looped around his waist. Yosuke let out an undignified squeak as Yu pulled him close. He tried to protest, but his words were weak, and he was leaning into Yu anyway, pressing his forehead into the safety of Yu's neck.

Yosuke hiccuped.

Oh.

_There._

There it was, so tiny and faint but it was there, under the cotton of Yu's shirt. He had a smell after all.

Yosuke huddled closer, sniffling, pushing his face into Yu's neck. Yu's skin was sweet, mellow and soft, and he was warm, so warm. It reminded him of smooth stone and sheets dried in the sunshine. The pull of a fluffy blanket over his shoulders on a cold night. Green leaves in spring. Moonlight. Yosuke inhaled as much as his lungs would carry, and held it, like a precious secret only he knew.

Yu's forearms were looped around the small of his back, and didn't let go until Yosuke's breathing went even and his shoulders stilled.


End file.
